


tastes like blue skies

by angeltalk



Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven GO
Genre: Homesickness, M/M, Oneshot, only one bed trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeltalk/pseuds/angeltalk
Summary: Ibuki opens an eye to glance at where Shindou lays with his back facing him on the floor. The rise and fall of his lithe frame almost hypnotic. Shindou shifts and it becomes apparent to Ibuki that he is awake, too.Who wouldn’t be? The floor is not a nice place to sleep.Then, before he can stop himself, Ibuki hears his own voice whisper, “Jesus Christ, just get over here, will you?”
Relationships: Ibuki Munemasa/Shindou Takuto
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	tastes like blue skies

**Author's Note:**

> InaGO Galaxy episode 29 rewrite, centering around the classic Only One Bed Trope and crossposted to my ffn account. 
> 
> I always find it hard to believe people watch episodes 29 and 30 and still don't ship these two, but maybe I just enjoy the enemies to friends to lovers cliché a little too much. Anyway, this pair deserves more attention, so here's my contribution ahahaha!

“You two should stay here awhile longer.”

That’s what the Elder bird says to them both as they sit before him and the other Eastern Clan birds. Ibuki quickly finds out that this is not a suggestion.

It is worrying. He’s never been held captive before. He’s not even sure if that’s the right word for it. These bird people don’t seem violent or malicious, but Ibuki still feels awkward, lost, and on edge like he’s waiting for the situation to take a turn for the worst.

Despite it all, Shindou seems calm. If he is feeling the same uneasiness that Ibuki is feeling, he isn’t showing it. Shindou is serene, polite, and Ibuki feels out of place. The Clanspeople insist on sharing a meal with them, and Shindou readily agrees before Ibuki has a chance to say anything.

The food they serve them is foreign. Ibuki doesn’t know much about birds, but he is fairly sure that information wouldn’t come in handy anyway, as he was also sure these weren’t even birds as he knew them to begin with. Alien birds serving alien food with alien customs.

Finally, he catches Shindou’s eye and the two share an unspoken worry. What if this is poisonous to humans? Even if the bird people have no ill will - which Ibuki is not convinced of - it is unlikely they know much of anything about humans.

Ibuki holds his breath when Shindou brings some of it to his mouth and takes a bite.

Great, now he will look rude if he refuses when Shindou has bravely taken the first step.

He gives in not long after.

“I just don’t want to end up collapsing from starvation during the game, okay?” He mutters, mostly as a rationalization to himself.

To his surprise, it’s delicious. Better than anything he’s had on the Galaxy Nauts Gou. Soon, his fears are gone and before he knows it he finishes one plate, another, and another, and the bird people keep offering him more and more.

Despite the onslaught of bird attention, Ibuki listens in as Shindou begins telling the Elder about Earth. Shindou speaks eloquently, sitting tall and respectful, and Ibuki can’t help but stare. The other birds are soon captured by Shindou’s descriptions of blue skies and rich green nature.

Shindou looks more alive than Ibuki has seen him in weeks. The brown haired boy across from him looks like he can’t help but let a small smile cross his lips as he talks fondly of the planet they left behind. Ibuki finds himself smiling, too, longingly. He feels like he can’t even remember what it felt like to breathe air that wasn’t rife with heat and ash. Earth and it’s blue, blue sky feel like a distant dream.

“So you live together with nature as well,” The Elder says.

“Yes.” Shindou says back.

It’s then that Ibuki realizes how homesick he is.

—————————

“We’ve never had human visitors before, so please tell us if there is anything we can do to accommodate your stay.” A tall and brown-feathered bird says to them as it leads them down a long moon-lit hallway.

“Thank you,” Shindou murmurs beside him. He seems like he always knows the best ways to respond.

They’re lead to two enormous yet simple wooden doors and are informed this is where they will be spending the night. Ibuki can’t help but wonder about the others. Were they still looking for them? What were they thinking was happening to he and Shindou? If he were them, he might even assume they were dead.

Ibuki tries to send Shindou another concerned glance, but Shindou is thanking their bird escort and soon after they are then gently pushed into the room.

Ibuki hasn’t taken his eyes off Shindou when the doors shut behind them.

“We need to tell them we can’t stay here, we can’t be taking it easy like-“ Ibuki falters at the sight of Shindou’s furrowed brow staring straight ahead, “What?”

He follows his gaze, and suddenly understands. Ibuki takes in the room for the first time. A plain, simple space made with soft wood. Two wooden dresser-like boxes by the single large window letting moonlight pour inside. Several un-lit candle lanterns placed on the floor, and at the center of the room, a single, circular bed.

“There’s… there’s only one bed?” Ibuki says stupidly.

“I’ll take the floor.” Shindou says, barely skipping a beat.

“No, no, that bird just said if there’s anything they can do to accommodate us to let them know, I think we should just go ask for another bed.”

Shindou has now made his way to one of the wooden dressers, “It’s not ideal, but I want to avoid offending them, if possible.”

“Offending them? What do you mean?”

“Well, they are birds, after all,” Shindou starts, and Ibuki swears he almost sees a light blush dusting the other’s cheeks, “One bed is probably normal to them… Like a nest.”

“You think they think we would… want to nest together?”

Shindou laughs a little dryly, “I mean, I’m not a mind reader, but apparently they did. We should just accept their hospitality and not make a fuss. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

Ibuki feels awkward. He wants to go ask that bird for another bed, but Shindou is smarter than him, and he feels deep down that he’s right. He already does not trust the Clanspeople, it would be best to avoid offending them with cultural confusion. He wants to tell Shindou it’s not a big deal, they can share the bed, but the more he thinks about it the hotter and more out of place he feels under his jacket. The words get stuck in his throat.

“If you don’t mind, I’m kind of tired.” Shindou says to him.

As Shindou unzips his track jacket, Ibuki can’t help but stare. The fabric slips off to reveal the brown haired boy’s thin shoulders veiled by the light white undershirt underneath. He holds his breath as he watches as Shindou bends to remove his shoes, his brown waves bouncing and reflecting the color of starlight in the alien moon’s rays.

It’s not the first time the goalkeeper is reminded of how beautiful his teammate is. He’s been aware of it since the beginning. Shindou has an air of unfaltering delicacy that Ibuki has never experienced before meeting him.

Ibuki swallows dryly, voice cracking, “I can sleep on the floor instead.”

Shindou finally looks at him with those unreadable brown eyes as he folds his jacket and places it on top of the dresser, “No, you need to get a good night’s sleep for tomorrow’s game. Goalkeeping is more important.”

Ibuki wants to protest again, but for the short amount of time he’s known Shindou it’s been clear that changing his mind is just about as hard as changing the tides of the sea. He slowly begins to remove his jacket as well.

The circular bed laying flush to the floor is strange, but surprisingly soft. It’s large enough that Ibuki can stretch out comfortably. No pillows, but that is to be expected with the cultural minimalism they’ve experienced so far. He offers Shindou the singular blanket, which he accepts.

—————————

Ibuki cannot fall asleep.

He knows Shindou is right about needing his strength to protect the goal tomorrow, but the guilt that Shindou is sleeping on the floor because of him is too much. It’s not like Shindou wouldn’t fit on the bed with him. There wasn’t so much room that they wouldn’t be close but the more that Ibuki thought about it, the more he found himself actually wanting it.

Ibuki opens an eye to glance at where Shindou lays with his back facing him on the floor. The rise and fall of his lithe frame almost hypnotic. Shindou shifts and it becomes apparent to Ibuki that he is awake, too.

Who wouldn’t be? The floor is not a nice place to sleep.

Then, before he can stop himself, Ibuki hears his own voice whisper, “Jesus Christ, just get over here, will you?”

Shindou shifts again and turns slowly to his other side to meet Ibuki’s gaze in the moonlight. Ibuki’s cheeks flush.

“Don’t make me say it again,” He warns in a whisper as he shifts over to create more room beside him and awkwardly pats the surface of the bed. Is he seriously doing this? He feels unbelievably stupid as Shindou just looks at him from the floor.

A million emotions flood through him as Shindou finally sits up and begins to tentatively move himself up onto the circular mattress. Relief, fear, anticipation. Ibuki feels his heart racing as Shindou settles next to him and passes the edge of the blanket over to him.

“…Thanks,” Shindou murmurs in a low whisper, not meeting the other’s eyes.

Ibuki has never seen him this close before. His hair looks so soft, Ibuki wants to touch it to find out, but he is frozen. Shindou looks unsure. Ibuki has never seen Shindou look unsure before.

“Don’t mention it.” Ibuki manages to whisper a reply.

“Sorry if I woke you.”

“‘What? Oh, you didn’t. I couldn’t sleep, either.”

Shindou then finally meets his eyes, concern written all over his features. Ibuki wonders if he said something wrong for a moment.

“Are you worried about the game? We’ll get there on time.”

“No... Well, yeah, I am I guess.”

Shindou narrows his eyes quizzically.

“Ibuki, what’s bothering you?”

Ibuki takes a moment before he responds. He feels awkward again, like he doesn’t know where to put his hands. Shindou is so close. “Why did you offer to sleep on the floor instead of me? You would have never done that for me if this happened a few weeks ago.”

Shindou’s eyes widen before his expression settles into a small smile and he shakes his head before turning to stare up at the ceiling, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I suppose somewhere along the line you’ve proven me wrong about yourself.”

It’s now Ibuki’s turn to look at him quizzically as Shindou turns those eyes back to him and gives him a small, almost-defeated smile, “What can I say? You win, Ibuki.”

Ibuki’s heart swells. Maybe it’s the late night, or the way Shindou is looking at him, or the feverish heat of this planet thousands of miles from their home, but Ibuki momentarily forgets all about his previous awkwardness and reaches towards Shindou on instinct.

His hand comes into contact with Shindou’s hip bone and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Ibuki… what are you-“

“You care about me?”

Shindou’s face flushes heavily, and Ibuki suddenly realizes where his hand is in contact with Shindou’s body and lets go. His awkwardness comes back like a flood and he mutters an embarrassed, nervous apology.

“No, it’s… it’s okay.” Shindou says, softly, voice wavering. His face is still flushed and with a slow realization Ibuki can suddenly tell Shindou is feeling just as awkward and nervous as he is.

Even with this knowledge, Ibuki feels frozen. After a moment, Shindou timidly, slowly, reaches towards Ibuki and ghosts trembling, long fingers over his arm.

“Do you… care for me, too… Ibuki?” Shindou whispers, so quietly Ibuki almost wonders if he’s heard him correctly.

Those deep brown eyes tell him enough to confirm what he’s heard, and in the next moment Ibuki feels as if this can’t be real, this has to be a dream, as he brings both of his hands up to frame Shindou’s face.

Shindou does not push him away. Ibuki feels like he can hear his own heart pounding against his chest. The air is hot.

There is a pause before Ibuki gives Shindou his answer.

Their lips meet, and Shindou kisses him back like a dam has burst. In a moment of desperation Ibuki pulls Shindou flush to his body as the gamemaker’s breath hitches. The game tomorrow, their teammates, even this planet and the unsettling feeling of being held captive by polite strange folk, feel like just fragments of a far off dream.

Shindou tastes like blue skies, lush green forests, the rustling of small animals in the underbrush, a stream of water bringing life wherever it touches. Shindou tastes human, his thin arms now wrapped around the back of Ibuki’s neck to pull them even closer. Shindou tastes like home.

Like the Earth, ten million lightyears away.

Ibuki isn’t so homesick anymore.


End file.
